Obsession
by Andrew's Slinky
Summary: Jim is fascinated by Spock's ears.


Disclaimer: I sadly own nothing, if I did, Jim would have been kissing Spock in the new movie, not Uhura.

Summary: Jim is fascinated by Spock's ears.

A/N: The response to my last Spirk story was so nice and flattering that I felt comfortable enough to post another one! This one is a little more….slashy, I guess is the word I'm looking for. It's a little more lemony and a little less sweet, so hopefully you like this one as much as my last!

* * *

James T. Kirk has an obsession.

A dangerous, unhealthy, emotionally and physically compromising obsession; his First Officer, or more specifically, his First Officer's ears.

Now normally Jim goes for women, and breasts, and legs, and….well, not ears. Not that ears weren't sexy in and of themselves, and they could be erogenous zones for many people, and he knew that from personal experience, but there is something about Spock's ears that turn him on. He feels the strange urge to trace the graceful arc all the way to the tip with his finger, maybe even his tongue, take the tip of that ear in his mouth and suck, or even bite.

He blinks, shaking his head to clear it of the thoughts that are quickly running away from him. He allows himself to indulge on that particular line of fantasy when he is alone in his quarters, long after his shift and he and Spock's chess games are over, but he can't do it now on the bridge. Not when there is nothing to cover the growing problem his fantasy gives him. Not when Spock is just a few feet from him, looking cool and calm and collected, and Jim has the nearly irrepressible urge to muss him up, to get those warm brown eyes to blaze, to widen in desire and slight surprise only to go half mast as the pleasure rolls through him and Jim finally, _finally_, gets to lean in and bite the tip of that ear to then only push his First Officer over the nearest surface and……he has to start thinking of other things when on the bridge.

He exhales softly through his nose and crosses his legs, hoping the slight pain that delivers to a certain part of his anatomy will get him to calm down and allow him to think about ship…things. Hell, he has nothing to distract him, not even his most beloved Enterprise. So he indulges himself a little more time to look at Spock, to imagine just how soft his hair is, or how heated his skin, what he'll taste like when he bites that ear, the noises he'll make when Jim finally gets to make him HIS and leave claiming bites and hickeys all over the other man.

"Captain?"

Jim jumps and makes a strangled sort of yelping noise, blue eyes wide in shock as he looks around quickly, running a hand through his hair and settling back into his chair.

"Um….what Mr. Sulu?" he asks in a still slightly strangled voice only to have Sulu turn in his seat and look at him like he's grown a second head, or that time his skin turned purple.

"I didn't say anything Captain."

Jim feels his face light on fire as his embarrassment colors him a decidedly dark cherry color.

"It is I who spoke, Captain."

Jim reluctantly drags his gaze over to meet his First Officer's and is welcomed by slightly worried brown eyes and a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, of course, what is it Mr. Spock?" he asks, finally getting his voice back under control. Spock's eyebrow twitches and for a moment Jim is rather entertained by the idea that it may fly completely off his forehead.

"You seem distracted Captain, also you have been staring at me for five point three minutes, is there something you wished to ask or a way in which I can be of some help?"

Jim knows for a fact that Spock isn't being smutty, or suggesting anything that is in any way untoward, but his imagination quickly fills in the gaps of exactly how Spock can _help_ him, and he has to bite his tongue before answering so that he doesn't blurt out his fantasy right there.

He's fairly certain that he would be the first case of death by embarrassment if that were to happen.

"Uh….no…no Spock," he gives a nervous little chuckle, "I'm okay, really."

Spock is not convinced, "Not to suggest that you were deliberately being misleading, but are you certain you do not require the assistance of Dr. McCoy?"

Jim's heart is momentarily warmed by the worry in his friend's eyes but brushes it off.

"I'm fine Spock, please try not to worry."

"Worrying is an emotion, Captain," and Jim has known Spock for two years now, been his friend, and confidant and Captain, and he knows that is Spock's way of dismissing the subject before the crew, but telling him that he will worry no matter what Jim says.

The whole idea of it is sweet, and it makes Jim smile softly to himself as Spock slowly turns back to his station and Jim's mind is filled with sweet thoughts until Spock's turned just so and he catches a full glimpse of those ears in all their glory and suddenly Jim's thoughts plummet right back into the gutter where they have seemed to set up permanent camp the past few weeks and his mouth starts watering.

When is his shift over?

Suddenly, crossing his legs isn't working as well as it had in the beginning and his lower anatomy is coming to attention without his consent.

He shifts awkwardly and clears his throat, closing his eyes to will the growing erection to go away before someone notices, or his shift is over and he has to _stand up and leave his chair! _He's sitting like this for a good twenty minutes before anyone notices, but before they can remark on the fact that their captain could be asleep if it weren't for the look of pure concentration and slight pain on his face, the next shift starts and his replacement shakes his shoulder gently and trades him places.

Jim practically runs from the room and makes sure that he's alone in the turbo lift, ignoring all the strange looks he's receiving from his friends and his crew. He finally lets loose the breath he hasn't even realized he's holding as he slumps against the white wall, and shudders. His pants are far too tight and his blood is pounding far too hard and he can barely breathe and for a moment he's sure that he won't be able to control himself if he sees Spock anytime within the next _year_ because holy lord he's never been this turned on and no one is even touching him!

The lift stops at the appropriate floor and Jim walks briskly down the hall, praying to a God he doesn't believe in that he won't meet anyone in the twenty feet between him and his door because there is no way to hide the tightness of his uniform.

Miraculously he makes it to his door and with a slightly shaky hand puts in the proper code to open the door. He steps into the slightly cool air of his room with a sigh that feels so good it nearly makes him collapse right there. But he doesn't, he manages to make it to his bed and tugs off his boots quickly, knowing he needs a shower, but whether he's going to go cold or warm is still up in the air. A cold shower could cool his body back to its usual relaxed state, but a warm shower could do all that with the added bonus of pleasure…..warm it is. He removes his uniform so fast that the seams almost rip and quickly slips into the bathroom that adjoins his and Spock's quarters and turns the heat on in the shower to its maximum capacity. He steps under the soothing spray and sighs happily at the raw heat that he knows isn't really like Spock at all, yet it is close enough for him to get through the rest of his day until he has a shift with his First again.

A half hour later (he knows it's a major waste of water but can't bring himself to care) and he's out of the shower, dressed in his uniform blacks, knowing he has a full night before his next shift, but not quite ready to sleep, he's come to the unfortunate realization that even with a warm shower he's still wound WAY too tight to do much of anything.

He's just entertaining the idea of going to bother Bones in Med Bay or even spar with Sulu in the workout room when there is a knock at his door. He sighs heavily and stands from where he's been lounging on his bed and walks briskly over to his door, opening it and hears rather than feels his brain short circuit.

Spock is standing in his doorway, the chess set in hand, in nothing but his regulation blacks, looking exotic and sexy and sinful and all other sorts of adjectives that make Jim's blood pool south with a frightening speed that has him backing up a few steps as though he's been struck.

The concern etched into Spock's eyes is plain to see.

"Captain, are you well?"

"Nugh," Jim makes a strangled sound that he knows isn't a word as he tries desperately to form a coherent thought that doesn't involve Spock's ears or his regulation blacks in a pile on Jim's bedroom floor, because the more he thinks it, the more likely he is to do something stupid. Spock steps into his room and his presence, his heat, the mere _thought_ of Spock being that close to him is incredibly distracting, and he doesn't know how he's made it this long without losing control.

"Captain….Jim…are you certain you are not ill, or perhaps inebriated?" Spock's voice is as cool and neutral as ever and that only fuels the fire Jim has deep inside to make Spock lose his control in a completely sex filled, non-violent way.

"I….I'm…." he has no idea of what the hell he is and Spock is entirely too close and smells entirely too good, and there's a slight tinge of green hinted beneath his smooth, pale skin, and Jim's mouth is trying to decide whether it should water or go dry at the thought of what that skin would look like if he were to bite it.

He takes a deep breath and attempts to tell his libido that Spock is a person, not an apple; there is no reason to sink his teeth into him. It would be wrong, and completely irradiate all the progress as friends that the pair has made in the past years and it would also be sinfully delicious.

Ugh, he needs to put some space between him and Spock, but he has the completely logical and correct fear that if he moves Spock would only follow and the only place to go is closer to his bed, and that would do no one any good at all. So he remains exactly where he is and looks down at his boots. Because after all, they are kickass boots.

"Jim?" Spock actually sounds slightly worried and it's enough to make Jim look up, which is a big mistake because he's been so wrapped up in all of his thoughts that he hasn't noticed just how close Spock has gotten to him and then the heat really is unbearable and Spock is so damn close it wouldn't even take a full step for Jim to come in contact with him and those ears are close enough for him to fulfill his every fantasy that has him waking up in the morning with sticky sheets and wasting a half hour worth of hot water when usually he's content with a five minute sonic shower.

"Spock…..you….can't….nugh…."

Spock gently reaches around Jim to set down the chess set in his arm but that only brings his ear in close proximity with Jim's lips and suddenly, the illogical irrational human can really no longer control himself and he lunges.

His hands grip Spock's hard shoulders as his lips finally wrap around the tip of a pointed ear and he gets a thrill of satisfaction when his surprise attack knocks Spock back into the wall and their bodies are mashed together and he knows that Spock can feel just how much Jim is truly into this and his tongue is finally wrapped around the flesh of that ear and even if Spock does kill him it would be totally worth it.

"Cap….Jim….!" Spock's voice is both surprised and breathless but to Jim's immense surprise and pleasure he doesn't attempt to knock him back. In fact, his strong, nimble hands are gripping at Jim's black t-shirt in a desperate sort of way that makes Jim smirk to himself and bite down on the tip of Spock's ear, hard.

The keening sound that Spock lets loose is almost enough to push Jim over the edge right then and there and he grips at the fabric beneath his fingers, tugging it closer, pressing every inch of their bodies together and he's sucking on that ear and it's freaking perfect.

"Jim…Jim….you mustn't…." Spock can't form a coherent sentence and his hands are grappling with Jim's shirt, pulling it up until his fingers come into contact with smooth, tanned skin that has Jim moaning, his lips momentarily abandoning their conquering of territory as his golden head nuzzles against Spock's throat, his fingers gripping fabric and skin and muscle and he's completely lost himself in this feeling.

"Spock, need, want, can't live….God…" and then he's up, biting the other ear for symmetry, "love these ears," he licks the tip and feels a satisfied shiver ripple through the man beneath his hands, "mine."

The final word is spoken in a low growl that brings that keening sound back from deep in Spock's throat, and there's a purring that seems to accompany it and suddenly the tables are turned and Jim grunts in pain and pleasure as his back hits the opposite wall and the warmth of his Vulcan is pressing insistently against him as Spock's lips make contact with his Captain's throat. His tongue reaches out to carve a path across Jim's sweaty skin and Jim's got his head turned to give Spock more room to work with and so that his own lips don't have to leave the ear that he's marking with his teeth and the pleasure is so intense it nearly burns. And he _needs_ something, anything, more friction and so he takes it. He's rutting against Spock's inhumanly warm and muscular thigh and Spock keens again and pushes his hips forward, pressing his own excitement into Jim's thigh and Jim groans, releasing the now bruised ear and shudders, his forehead hitting muscular shoulder as he continues to thrust forward.

"Spock…."

He's asking for something but what it is not even he is sure, but luckily for him Spock seems to know and the Vulcan's strong hands are suddenly gripping the backs of Jim's thighs and lifting him until he stops rocking momentarily to wrap his legs around Spock's slim waist as his First Officer uses his Vulcan strength to carry Jim just like that over towards the bed until they both topple down, Spock leaning over Jim, Jim's legs still wrapped tightly around Spock's waist, pressing their excitement together in a delicious rhythm of non-movement that's just as satisfying as when Jim had been thrusting just a few seconds earlier.

For a second, Jim's heart nearly stops as he looks up at his friend. Spock's eyes have gone from the deep chocolate brown to coal black, almost icy except for the iron hot lust burning there and then his eyebrow twitches as he takes in Jim's appearance and for a moment Jim is terrified that Spock has suddenly had a bout of logic and is thinking this may be a mistake.

"Jim," and the voice is slightly strangled, but much closer to normal than Jim could ever hope to be at this moment, in fact, he's pretty certain if he attempted to talk all that would come out is drool, and that's just too embarrassing to be even a remote possibility.

Suddenly Spock's heat is removed and the Vulcan is standing up straight, attempting to look like his normal stoic self, and he would achieve it if Jim couldn't see the green bruises on his ears and the mint toned flush to his cheeks.

"Captain, I apologize for attacking you in such a manner, I shall remove myself to the brig immediately and await my punishment for such an action."

Jim blinks, once, twice, he feels his jaw drop, and is thankful no drool escapes. Spock seems to take his silence as an agreement and turns on his heel to leave. It's the sight of his First Officer's back that jolts Jim to reality once more and allows him the use of his voice.

"Spock!"

The Vulcan stops but does not turn. Jim doesn't trust his legs to support his weight and remains on the bed, looking properly ravished.

"Spock, turn around and face me, please."

Spock doesn't move, but Jim does catch the tensing of his shoulders and suddenly, he's pissed. He's angrier than he can remember being in a damn long time and his voice is like the purest, coldest ice as he speaks again.

"Face me, Commander, that's an order."

Spock reluctantly turns and continues to hang his head in shame, the tips of his ears are so bruised that it looks as if he's permanently blushing and Jim wants to find that adorable, and some level of him does, along with an entirely different level that is aroused by the fact that there are bite marks visible on those ears and he knows he put them there. But he's too damn angry to dwell on those feelings.

"Look at me, dammit Spock!"

Spock looks up at him, his eyes still black as midnight, his cheeks still flushed, but whether it's from arousal or embarrassment, Jim isn't sure, but the sight does soften his tone a little.

"Spock, I attacked first, remember?"

Spock tilts his head at this, a singular eyebrow arching, "You have not been sleeping well as of late Captain, and are increasingly distracted, you cannot be held accountable for your actions when this loss of recuperation catches up to your physiology. I, however, am in complete accordance with my own mental facilities and should not have responded in the manner that I did."

Jim wants to punch him in the face and kiss him all at the same time, because, come on, how adorable is that? Spock is ashamed of the thought that he allowed himself to get carried away with what he sees as a crazy Jim Kirk. Jim's eyes and tone soften even more.

"Spock, I'm fine, I am in complete control of myself, really. I _wanted_ this, hell, I still want it."

Spock does not seem so certain of that.

"Captain, I do not believe that."

Jim's anger kicks back up a notch and he stands quickly, taking the steps over to Spock, who seriously looks as though he wants to run, but is too bound by his duty as First Officer to do it.

"Spock," he reaches out and grasps the Vulcan's wrist, bringing his hand forward until Spock's long, beautiful fingers brush against the erection barely contained in Jim's Starfleet issue slacks and the chocolate brown eyes widen marginally as Jim's eyes roll back and he moans wantonly at the contact, because damn is it good and everything he wants and why, oh why, can't he just be fucking Spock on his bed already?

"Spock," he manages through soft breaths as the Vulcan's fingers initiate contact on their own, Spock's head tilted to watch Jim as though he is a particularly interesting science experiment.

"Jim, I…" the hand is removed quickly and Jim whimpers at the loss of heat.

"No!" he demands in a roar that is so unlike him it is almost startling in its intensity, but he isn't going to question it now, because he's so very close to having everything he's ever wanted and dammit it but he needs this, he needs Spock to stay. So he reaches out and grips Spock's wrist again, knowing that if Spock did not want his arm moved it would not be moved, but to Jim's immense relief, the muscles are lax and it's lifted as easily as the first time.

"Spock, I want you," and he's looking into his First Officer's eyes as those Vulcan fingers tremble just slightly as they ghost over the front of his pants.

Spock still seems uncertain even as his hand continues to initiate the contact that has Jim's eyes rolling back in his head and his entire body rolling forward to try and make the contact harder, more real. But Spock is resigned to his light touch.

"Captain, I do not think…."

"Jim, dammit JIM," the blonde growls through clenched teeth, "You're practically giving me a hand job and you still won't call me Jim?"

Spock ignores the shiver his Captain's lust textured voice sends down his spine and ever so slightly increases the pressure of his hand. And quite suddenly, at a speed that Spock had previously believed impossible for a human, Jim has bridged that last gap of space and is pressed tightly against Spock, their mutual excitement roaring in their ears as every last inch of their bodies molds together. Jim smiles and sighs happily, leaning in and sweeping his lips against Spock's. Spock returns the gesture as quickly as his mind can catch up from his momentary lapse, which is less than a second, although he must admit to not knowing the actual length of time as he is currently distracted by Jim's tongue begging his bottom lip for entrance.

Jim groans in the back of his throat as his own smooth, rather cool in comparison, tongue meets Spock's slightly rougher (oddly cat like, he thinks, although he's never kissed a cat so he's unsure as to why he would know that) and much hotter tongue. And then they're really kissing and tongues are dueling and hands are roaming and there's moaning and grunting and growling and Jim is so dizzy from all the wonderful emotions and wants and needs roaring through his bloodstream that he's unsure whether he's making those noises or if it's Spock but he decides that it doesn't really matter as long as someone keeps making those noises because they're too damn hot and Jim needs this and there's too much fabric and sensation and it's overwhelming and terrifying in a wonderful sort of way and suddenly Jim can't breathe.

He tears back from Spock, gasping for breath, tears pooling in his eyes as he grips HIS Vulcan in a way that screams 'emotionally unstable!' at the top of its metaphorical lungs and the concern is back in Spock's eyes as he holds Jim close, tilting the man's head until Jim is burrowed deep in Spock's arms, his nose pressed gently against the curve of Spock's neck as he trembles. Spock's delicate fingers reach up and stroke the tender skin behind Jim's left ear soothingly.

"It is all right Jim, I have you."

Jim continues to tremble, unsure of when he went from hot with need to terrified that Spock would leave him.

"Spock," he chokes out, and just saying the name makes those knots in the pit of his gut loosen so he says it again and as the pain lessens even more, he says it again, and then again, until it's a mantra squeezed between his teeth, lodging in his throat and being finally released against the warm skin of Spock's throat as the Vulcan gently holds him, that purring sound from earlier pulsating through the space that is non-existent between them and it's the most soothing sound that Jim has ever heard.

"It is all right Jim, I shall not leave you."

And Jim knows he's right, Spock has shown his loyalty every day in the years they've been serving together and Jim has no reason to doubt him, no previous action to be held against him. Because when Spock looks at him, he doesn't see George Kirk reflected in his features, a husband and love lost that makes his mother's eyes dull when she sees him. Spock doesn't see all the hard scars that litter him from his experiences on Tarsus IV, or his numerous bar fights, or the ones, faint now with time that his step father Frank had put there when Jim was little Jimmy and far too little and confused as to why his mother didn't love him to fight back.

He doesn't see the youngest Starfleet Captain of all time, a kid that can step up to the challenge but maybe in the end is a little too emotionally involved.

He doesn't even see Jim T. Kirk, playboy of the Academy.

He just sees Jim, just holds Jim, just loves Jim, and it is all passed in startling clarity through the slight telepathic bond that has been opened between them, and Jim welcomes it with open arms, basks in the love and warmth and acceptance that Spock is directing at him, and his trembling stops. Suddenly, he feels a sense of completion that he's never known, a completion that started that day on the shuttle when he met Bones, his first and best friend, and is finally completely whole now that Spock has his arms around him and loves him.

"Spock," Jim picks up his head and is surprised to see that somewhere in the throes of his breakdown they have moved to the bed and he's sprawled half on top of Spock, the Vulcan's arms tight around him and as he slowly sits up, Spock's eyes carefully follow him, reading the situation so that he can act accordingly and Jim is still aware that he's half-hard and still completely in love with the sight of a bruised Vulcan ear and he lays back where he was, cuddled deep in Spock's embrace.

"Jim, is there something you wanted to say?"

Jim is sure that there was, but he can't remember it now and instead leans forward to bite that ear again and Spock reacts instantly, keening softly, his eyes snapping shut and Jim can feel the pleasure rolling through him from the bond that just seems to be getting stronger and he wonders vaguely if it's that strong because the other Spock melded with him but quickly throws that thought away for later pondering when Spock's hand tightens around his thigh, so close and yet so very far away from where he needs it most.

"Spock," he mutters around a deliciously alien tasting ear as that hand flexes hard enough to bruise but Jim can't bring himself to care, in fact, if he could, he'd walk around without pants for the next few days to show off that bruise, to prove that Spock is his and he is Spock's and everyone on the damn ship who has ever looked at either of them in any more than a friendly manner better remember it, and keep their grubby hands to themselves, dammit!

"Jim, it is illogical to…ugh…walk around in only half a uniform, it also breaches Starfleet regulation number 7.0….." the rest of Spock's still pretty well articulated sentence is cut off as Jim rolls completely on top of him and takes his bottom lip between his teeth with a low growl. He wants to make Spock lose control, he wants Spock to be reduced to nothing more than a quivering mass of green tinged Vulcan, and he wants it NOW.

His hands slip under the black t-shirt that has become un-tucked from equally dark pants in their passion and slides his slightly calloused fingers across Spock's flesh, his left hand finding Spock's heart where it resides in his abdomen and even though it's strange to feel the heartbeat there, it is also semi soothing as Spock sits up far enough to remove his shirt and Jim's in fluid motions that take mere milliseconds, and then they're mashed together, naked skin against naked skin, the entirety of their torsos' devoured by the beating of their hearts in different places and they both groan softly at the electricity that seems to shoot into the room as they tumble back to the bed, Jim's fingers rubbing soothing circles along Spock's sides and Spock's own hands curled tightly in Jim's hair, tugging, pulling, holding, and Jim doesn't know how much longer he's going to be able to take the intensity of the sensations rolling through him.

They break for air and Jim mouths open kisses to Spock's throat, nipping ever so gently with his teeth and gauging, both from the sounds and the feelings projected through the bond that both the kiss and the teeth are very hot to Spock, but that whenever he bites him there is a flare of the deepest red, of a more primal side to the Vulcan and Jim is so in love with it that he vows to bite every inch of Spock's delicious skin if it means that he'll lose even the tiniest bit of his control, and so he goes about that very endeavor, nibbling love bites along his throat, clavicle, chest, stomach, hips, and continuing lower until the Vulcan is crying out in a voice that goes straight to Jim's own erection and his hips buck under Jim's ministrations and Jim is smirking in his victory of getting Spock to lose any and all control.

* * *

A few hours later and they tumble to the bed in a sated daze, legs entwined; Jim's head pillowed on Spock's chest, Spock's hands wrapped firmly around his human lover, that same alien purring echoing through his throat and chest as Jim traced all the bite marks within reach of his fingers.

"Who knew Vulcans were so kinky," he murmured it without really thinking about it and he felt Spock's amusement through the bond, the meld that had initiated through their sex.

"Vulcans do put….emphasis on possessiveness," was the steady as ever reply and Jim tried not to think of how hot that was, that he was now considered Spock's and only Spock's, and more importantly, that was stabilizing to him instead of frightening. He knew that humans didn't generally think in such terms, they didn't think of possessiveness as such a desirable trait as Vulcans did, they didn't see it as something warm and sweet and loving and, well, hot, they saw it as something dominating, frightening, and sick. But Jim, Jim who had gone through his entire life alone, without the ties of a normal kid, this thought of being Spock's was comforting, it was stable, it was safe, and well, hot.

He sighs happily and snuggles down further into Spock's embrace, who welcomes him with ease and familiarity that is foreign to Jim, but nice all the same, and Jim can never remember being so happy before. Suddenly, an all consuming, physically and mentally addicting obsession doesn't seem like such a terrible thing to him, although now that he knows how Spock tastes and much more importantly sounds and looks during any dirty act that Jim has previously thought of doing to him, he begins to wonder if he'll ever be able to have a shift with his First Officer with his legs uncrossed ever again.

* * *

Okay, this morphed into something totally crazy and long and WAY more lemony than I ever usually go and….well, wow, so if I suck at this, tell me, and I promise not to try to do a smutty sweet story again, cause, the more I look over this the more I'm unsure about it, so please review and tell me what you think.

Please?

First ten reviewers get Jim and Spock handcuffed together, along with a chocolate fondue kit to do with as you will……

~Andrew's Slinky


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